<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Drabbles / Writing samples 🖤💀🍷 by Moodamnit</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24289570">Drabbles / Writing samples 🖤💀🍷</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moodamnit/pseuds/Moodamnit'>Moodamnit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Car Sex, Drabble Collection, Drunk Sex, F/F, M/M, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, Stigmata</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:53:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,144</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24289570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moodamnit/pseuds/Moodamnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A sampler of drabbles for my writing commissions. Labeled chapters for your consumption: Heavy focus on dark topics, LGBT+ erotica, domestic, hurt and comfort, and a good pinch of blood and gore. Enjoy!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jenchan Shimazu / Lucky Mancini, Jenko Shimazu / Luca Mancini</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. wlw erotica - 'Shots"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey!</p><p>This is a sampler of drabbles for my writing commissions. Their contents might vary from drabble to drabble, and might not be suitable for all audiences. </p><p>I've put appropriate warnings at the beginning of every chapter so that you'll know what to expect. You may jump to the drabble of your preference.</p><p>The characters depicted are different iterations or alternate universes of the original characters Jenko Shimazu and Luca Mancini.</p><p>Jenko Shimazu belongs to my best friend (and beta reader/editor) Xubbles.🖤<br/>Luca Mancini and Bruno Zanichelli belong to me.</p><p>You can see my prices and commission my work at: https://mummuart.carrd.co/</p><p>Thank you for reading. Enjoy! 🖤💀🍷</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h2>wlw erotica - 'Shots'</h2><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Tags/Warnings: Drunk sex, Car sex, Girl on girl</strong>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p> </p><p>A little laugh quieted in her throat, before squeezing into the space under the back seat of her car. Wide pupils ran along the smooth crevice between Jenny’s legs, to spread them around her slightly sunburnt shoulders with a playful appeal. If her goofy seduction antics were at all telling, those tequila shots earlier had certainly gotten to her too. The drunk brunette stifled a laugh at the spectacle, her long gel manicure tracing soft rows over the beachy blond hair she dearly loved. <br/><br/>“ <em> You silly girl… </em> ” --She said longingly, with a playful tone of her own, dimmed by the alcohol, and the expectation…<br/><br/>Lucky drunkenly bit her own lip. Suddenly, the urge of touching herself had sharply escalated...<br/><br/>As the warm, sun kissed thighs wrapped comfortably around her head, the blonde allowed herself a moment of reverent pause; Jenny wasn’t wearing that black thong anymore…When did she even take it off? The faint purple glint of her clitoral jewelry greeted her, nested delicately over her labia. <br/><br/>“ <em> Ohh… baby… </em> ” The surfer sighed, with a song in her voice. The scent of Jenny’s wetness, mixed in with her vanilla and coconut body lotion was making her mouth water… Her own bikini bottom was already drenched in the evidence of her own desire, but those familiar nails over her scalp only lured her further in. <br/><br/>Venom piercings hazed over for a brief second. Warm breath preceding a slow, devoted tongue running over her innermost entrance made the brunette sigh deeply, her back arching slightly over the car’s seat while she took a steadier hold of her girlfriend’s hair. Her other hand slowly clawed a grip over her own supple breast, pearled with golden glitter and sweat.<br/><br/>A long moan finally escaped the brunette, as Lucky's lips closed around her wet labia in a deep, suckling kiss. The light clinking of her bracelet charms accompanied their sighs and moans as restless as the patterns traced in her own bikini bottoms. Her pierced tongue cradled the adorned clit, leaving strings of saliva in her wake, and sucking it in long, slow passes to Jenny’s delight.<br/><br/>“ <em> Ohh…yes, baby… </em> ”<br/><br/>The vanilla-coconut thighs tensed deliciously around her head, dizzying her further in their lustful heat. With Jenny’s perfectly trimmed pubic hair in sight, Lucky scooted lower, probing her wet tongue inside her girlfriend, and nudging her nose against her piercing. The sensation sent a pleasant wave down the brunette’s spine, making her body arch to meet the blonde’s face with more intent.<br/><br/>Hazy blue eyes glanced up at her beloved, her encouraging moans dragging her deeper into her drunken worshipping, filling her with love, and lust for her woman. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Spanish/Horror - Estigmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<h2>Spanish/Horror - Estigmas</h2>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>Tags/Warnings: Blood, Gore, Horror, Religious themes<br/>
Etiquetas/Advertencias: Sangre, Gore, Horror, Temas religiosos</strong>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Una vez que el hombre atravesó el dintel, el aire pesado y fragante de la habitación lo rodeó de inmediato, sumiéndolo en un estado de reverencia y aprehensión casi físicas. <br/>
<br/>
En dónde terminaba el olor a incienso, y en dónde comenzaba el olor a metal… o <em> rosas </em> , <em> MILES </em> de rosas, era imposible de discernir, como si la lógica dictase que una cosa podía fundirse impecablemente en la otra.</p>
<p>Aún más acongojante, pensó el exorcista, era que toda aquella atmósfera pudiese caber en esa modesta, tenuemente iluminada habitación.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
La cadena metálica del rosario se tensó sobre el dorso de su mano... <br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>Estaba en presencia de un milagro, o de una blasfemia…</p>
<p><br/>
Con su acostumbrado estoicismo, y a pesar de sus propias reservas, el hombre dio un paso adelante más allá de la delicada celosía, aproximándose así a la cama del convaleciente, cuya frágil respiración podía escucharse cada vez más cerca.<br/>
<br/>
Allí, cubierto por una fina sábana blanca, y beatificado por la luz de las docenas de lumbres y plegarias recibidas por su congregación, estaba un sacerdote de no más de treinta años; en su mirada, pesada, las huellas de un dolor sostenido por quién sabe cuánto tiempo --Pero no era su palidez o su miseria lo más escalofriante, sino ver el origen de aquél peso metálico en el aire...<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p><em>Estigmas </em>. </p>
<p><br/>
Múltiples y sangrantes, profanando irreparablemente las modestas ropas de cama… El exorcista se detuvo frente a él; Y en lugar de reverencia ante la voluntad divina, un escalofrío de muerte descendió sobre sus hombros.<br/>
<br/>
Sangre que no parecía de este mundo brotaba sin ceremonia de las heridas del sacerdote; Lentas lágrimas carmesí manchando su frente, pálida y sudorosa… Y en lugar de ennegrecerse, se recolectaban en su clavícula, y en sus emaciadas palmas, como un puñado de fragantes rubíes.<br/>
<br/>
“ <em> Padre… </em> ” -La voz del hombre lo alcanzó suavemente, a través de la densa nube de sus pensamientos. Su rostro lleno de penitencia consolándolo de su horror con una débil sonrisa.</p>
<p><br/>
“<em>Que la gracia de Dios se derrame sobre usted… </em>”.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. English/Horror - Stigmata</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h2>English/Horror - Stigmata</h2><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <br/>
    <strong>Tags/Warnings: Blood, Gore, Horror, Religious themes<br/></strong>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</blockquote><p>As soon as he walked through the doorframe, the bedroom’s heavy, fragrant air surrounded him in an instant, sinking him in an almost physical state of reverence, and <em> apprehension </em> ...<br/><br/>Where did the smell of incense end, and where did the scent of metal… or <em> roses, THOUSANDS </em> of roses start, it was… impossible to discern, as if logic had it that one thing could seamlessly fuse into the other.<br/><br/>Even more disturbing ‒thought the exorcist‒ was that the overwhelming atmosphere could fit in that small, humble, dimly lit bedroom.<br/><br/><br/>The metallic chain of his rosary tensed over the back of his hand…<br/><br/><br/><br/>He was in the presence of a miracle, or a <em> blasphemy...<br/><br/><br/></em><br/>With his accustomed stoicism, and despite his own reserves, the man took a step forward beneath the delicate lattice to approach the bed of the convalescent, whose frail breaths could now be heard closer.<br/><br/>There, covered by a fine white sheet, and beatified by the light of dozens of candles and prayers received by his congregation, there was a priest, not older than thirty. In his heavy look, there were traces of a pain sustained for longer than could be foreseen --But it wasn’t his pale visage, nor his misery that was most jarring, but seeing the <em> origin </em> of that heavy, metallic scent in the air…<br/><br/><br/><em> Stigmata.<br/><br/><br/></em> Multiple bleeding stigmata, tainting the modest bedsheets beyond repair… The exorcist froze in his steps, stopping in front of him. Instead of reverence for God’s grace, a cold chill descended over his shoulders... <br/><br/>Otherworldly blood poured unceremoniously from the priest’s wounds. Slow, crimson tears stained his forehead, pasty and sweaty… And instead of darkening, they gathered in his collarbones, and his emaciated palms, like a handful of perfumed rubies.<br/><br/>“ <em> Father... </em> ” - The poor man’s voice reached him softly, beneath the dense cloud of his racing thoughts. His face, filled with penitence, comforted him from his horror with a faint smile...<br/><br/>“ <em> May God’s grace descend upon you… </em>”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>